Dreaming, Selfishly

Recently, I read a quote by E.E Cummings that perfectly summed up a professional dilemma I was faced with this past winter.

“Trust your heart if the seas catch fire,

live by love though the seas walk backward.”

To me, this quote is all about making hard decisions and trusting your heart, even if your brain is begging you to be rational. Trust your heart and take the leap. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done but it also helps when you have a gentle nudge from someone you love.

I’ll explain.

After four years of writing and six months of editing, I finally completed the manuscript for my second novel. Yes, this was a truly momentous accomplishment, especially considering I work a full-time job and was planning a destination wedding overseas at the time—that happens to be the 21st of this month. So, when that last chapter was combed over for the very last time, I shut my laptop screen and sat back on my couch, thinking, “What now?”

Inside I knew the answer: an in-depth line edit.

My editor—who I’ve been working with since my novel’s conception—had suggested this months before, saying that a line edit was the best way to make sure my words would catch the eye of a potential agent and then a publisher. Putting forth your best work sells the book with very little effort. Which is true; why would anyone in a professional setting put their time and effort into a project that was sloppy. But, an extensive edit comes with a cost.

A very hefty, monetary cost.

I didn’t know the exact dollar amount, but I could only assume the price tag for such an endeavor would be substantial. I feared finding out the exact amount because I knew I needed it done but didn’t know if I could afford it. I composed an email to my editor asking for the quote; for days, I dreaded sending it, I stared at the draft sitting in my mailbox and couldn’t bring myself to press send. It was the purest form of mental torture.

When my psyche couldn’t take another day, I pressed send and walked away from my computer.

Within the hour, my editor responded.

In my head, I had a cap that I could spend. Her quote was twice that amount.

Twice I read her very detailed response, then I ran to my work’s bathroom, threw up, and returned to my desk to read it, again. Her quote was reasonable; at the time, my manuscript was just shy of five hundred pages, and was close to two hundred thousand words. A lot of fine tuning was needed to get my word count closer to one hundred thousand, and to correct the grammatical errors that my personal edit certainly hadn’t caught. I knew how far I’d come under her tutelage, and I didn’t for one-minute think she was bloating the expense to line her pockets—there was much at stake for her as well. And in truth I had the money; I’ve been frugal all my life and have been saving tirelessly for years to buy a house. A house that was in the very near future with my soon-to-be husband. The line edit wouldn’t drain my savings but a withdraw would significantly decrease the amount I’d have for a down payment.

I didn’t know what to do. It was one of the few times in my life where I truly felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

It was either spend the money, take a gamble on my dream, and risk the home of my future family—and possibly get a book deal, and the career I’ve always wanted. Or pass on my editor’s offer, allow my savings to continue gaining interest, and for my unpublished manuscript—four years of hard work, dedication, and discipline—to remain just that. Even considering it made me feel selfish.

What to do?

I called my fiancé.

Between my hysterical sobs and incoherent stream of consciousness explanation of the email, I’m not sure how he understood me. But he let me get all the emotion and anxiety out of my system before he said a word. And his words were simple.

“Babe, it’s not my money. We’ll save more. This is your dream. Cut the check and make it happen.”

Just like that, the man I loved more than anything in the world gave me permission to be selfish. To follow my heart even though my brain was telling me to be realistic.

After I hung up the phone, I sent a short email to my editor; “Let’s do it.”

So, to all those dreaming out there—dreaming about passion projects that many consider a “hobby”—never give up. Surround yourself with people who believe and push you. And listen to your heart.

*Ps—to the love of my life, your wish has been granted; you’ve officially become a character in one of my stories 😊*